jessblogs

[jessblogs]

This is 2024. This is 22.

Lunar New Year is a time when family comes together to wish better for the next year. We wish good health on the elderly and good education upon the young. This year Lunar New Year is on Saturday, which ironically is the only day my family is together every week. While that sounds great in theory, it sucks.

This is 2024. This is 22. This year has secretly sucked as an aftermath of last year.

My parents losing their job was so surreal. They've worked their almost my whole life. It was a norm to see my mom be home by 2:44pm everyday and my dad to get home by 6:00pm. It was a norm for us to eat family dinners together by 6:30pm. It was a norm for everyone to be on the couch by 7:30pm, watching whatever vlog my dad was playing on Youtube and listening to my mom watch her Youtube videos and my dad speaking to my uncle while my brother was on his phone or the game and I was on my own device. There were times when I stayed late at school or went out during these hours, but for the most part that was the norm. I took these norms for granted.

After my mom initially lost her job, the turnaround for her new job was so rapid that I felt like she never began a new job. But little by little I would feel the emptiness. My mom may have never been one to speak a lot during dinner as she is a slow eater, but her presence was always missing. My dad sort of take part of her role; do the dishes, wipe the table and though my mom would never let us cook our own meal even when she wasn't there, it just never felt the same. I would hear her come home at 2:30am when she doesn't know I'm awake, but never see her. It was the only way I knew she was okay, at least physically. As abnormal as this was, at least we still had Friday, Saturday, and Sundays. I would come home on Fridays knowing I would see my family whole again. I would hear her talk to my dad about how much she hates her new coworkers and how hard adjusting to this new job was. This was probably when the guilt started to seep in unknowingly.

A few weeks later, my dad lost his job. Every Sunday became File for Unemployment Day. It was unfortunate, he had too much time on his hands and not enough to do. He spent time trying to fix things, once even falling on a chair and hurting his leg, but at least my family would be all together every evening — it was a fraction of what it used to be, but it was still there.

As weeks went by, he was becoming uneasy and needed a job. Initially my parents planned to work at the same company again, but it just didn't work out. The funds were slowly draining and even though they'd never admit it, it was worrisome to provide for two children with one being in college and the other being a teenage boy who needs all he can get. Right before the holidays, he did find a job. I thought he would be working second shift — the same/similar hours to my mom if not earlier — so things would not shift at once. Boy, was I wrong. His shifts became night shifts, I would never see him. He slept as I woke and woke as I slept. I saw him for 2 hours at most before he left and that was if I was lucky enough to be home on time. He may not have worked Fridays, but my Fridays were still booked. We would have the short hours of Saturday as a family and by Sunday it was back to the weekly routine. I felt like I didn't have my parents anymore. I took our dinners together, their excessive noise in the living from their respective activities, the rants and bickering — I took it all for granted. Now who knows when things will be whole again.

This is when the guilt took its turn. My friends were graduating and getting real jobs. I may have taken an extra year for myself and though not a waste based on the experience I've gained, sure felt like it. I've grown, matured, learned from my mistakes, but at what cost? I had to figure out what the hell I was doing with my life. Because while my parents went to work everyday aiming to provide for their beloved children, little do they know that I spent the first three years of my college career compensating for all the classes I failed, withdrew from, mistakes I made. I was no longer pre-med, barely pre-pa, and switching to a field I never considered in my life. I hated my major, I made mistakes, I inevitably needed more school. But I had to decide. I could no longer bare to see my parents getting older, but still being on the move. It broke my heart to see the dark circles form under my dad's eyes as he made his coffee for the night. I could no longer bare to look at the stress in my mom's eyes when she talked about how she was yelled at the night before at work. I can longer bare to tolerate the bickering as my parents yelled at each other from frustration because they were tired. Time has become torture. I say I need just two, maybe three more years, but what if it isn't enough? I can't hope for longer, the clock is ticking. I need to retire my parents and get my brother through college for them. I had to help pay for that future house in Georgia and their first Lexus. I had to be the solution to all their problems — their one and only daughter, their golden child. I had to do it for them. They are my why, my how, my what, my when.

They've always said that everything they've done is for me. For me to succeed, survive, live, be better. I needed to be better. I needed to succeed and be survive, live, but not just for myself. For them. I need to do everything I can, so they can finally stop moving. I am so tired of watching them move. This is 2024. This is 22.

[jessblogs]

What’s wrong with me?

I come to realize that there are very little people I truly feel like I can rely on, but why is that the case? There are people who go out everyday and meet everyone that they can; I would love to be those people. Imagine going out without a care in the world and still doing well academically. Imagine not being worried about who may not like you or why you are always sitting in your room alone. Just imagine it. 

I realized I have no one because the moment I graduated high school, I stopped speaking to half of my close friends list on Instagram. And why though? Because I chose to quarantine instead of going out everyday/night instead? Because I have too little social energy to see someone new every single day? Because my anxiety gets the best of me in choosing to cancel plans or not see people? Why is it that I feel as though the people I was placed in front of got closer quicker to each other than I would ever be to them? How do I not click with them as fast as they click with each other?

What’s wrong with me?

In nice 80 degree weather, why do I choose to isolate myself rather than bask in the sun? In the middle of winter, why do I choose to read a book by the heater than make memories ice skating?

Reading seems like the only constant in my life sometimes. When I feel lost or alone, I never fail to shed from my own skin when I read. Is that why I find that I would rather open a book than face my reality? (That seems like a rhetorical question).

And why is it that if I seem to be so isolated, why do I still do so poorly in school? I would like to think I put as much effort in as any other. I know I procrastinate and have trouble focusing, but how is it fair that someone who tends to have such a vast social life seems to be doing way better than me, who spends her time inside, but not productively?

Why do I find myself in the dark corners of the room at times when I should be the happiest?

What’s wrong with me?

[jessblogs]

miracles in february. wealth in february. love in february. comfort in february. laughter in february. bliss in february. success in february. friendship in february. beauty in february. joy in february. harmony in february. blessings in february. balance in february. soul in february.

[jessblogs]

healing takes time and it’s okay

[jessblogs]

Scars From Senior Year that Threaten to Reopen

Isn’t it crazy how much can change in even less than a year? A year ago today, I was worried about if I could attend my brother’s basketball game and still finish all my homework in time. A year ago today, all the seniors in my class had just started buzzing about our senior trip to New York City and prom. A year ago today, I think I was genuinely happy and was looking forward to where life would take me. It’s crazy how much is different now. 

The last I remember from pre-pandemic in February to March is that my biggest concern was finding the perfect prom dress, the most ideal prom date, the best way to take pictures, and the best way to do seating because all I was planning for was the best night of my high school experience. Despite not having taken any of my final IB exams or final tests, I was done with school and I was more than ready to live out the fantasy that is senior year of high school. Even the weekend that schools closed, my best friend and I still went prom dress shopping, but I remember the fear more than anything of being around people we didn’t know and this was a pre-mask period. A week into lockdown, I was still hopeful and somewhat naive to what was to come as I still ordered the prom dress I finally planned to wear. Symbolism has its own ways of living because the order was cancelled and that became the downfall of my senior year.

At some point, I felt like I lost purpose in my life. I am one of those girls that over-plans their dream prom and have plans for their wedding. Realistically, I wanted the perfect promposal. After everything I had put myself through that year when it came to prom, it was the least I could have for myself. Perfect runs short when that already-planned promposal didn’t happen. I have never been brought flowers or been given a somewhat romantic gesture and the promposal gave me the opportunity to crave this “teenage” experience I never really had for myself. Before school even closed, I would become heavily involved in planning promposals for my friends because I knew how it felt to not, or think you won’t, get one. The lack of everything I’ve always dreamed of put me in a dark place. I am a person of closure. I need to close a new chapter to open one. I guess we have to push ourselves out of bad habits sometimes, right? In all honesty, I didn’t think my promposal was already planned, but I was told by one of my friends on our cap-and-gown pickup day that it was planned for the first day of lockdown and for a while this completely shattered me. Imagine missing your promposal, something you’ve been waiting for ever since you could remember, by a single lockdown day. I know I’m not the only one, but at the time this destroyed everything I had built for myself and I was alone and broken.

The same thing applies to friendships I thought I had built for myself in high school. Of course, I’ve heard the famous, “your high school friends don’t last forever,” but honestly I was convinced things would be different, after all, my high school is different. Even while in high school, I don’t think I ever really had many friends - just the illusion of many friends. Most of my friends were just school friends - we’d say hi in the halls and laugh at jokes at homecoming or in the corridor, but we never bothered to reach out outside of school or really hang out during most of our free-time. Even the friends I thought were close to me during IB eventually fell off. Most of the time it was because we were too different. Different schools, different lifestyles, different parenting rules, different opinions, and that’s why nothing more could’ve happened.  Despite this, I found myself surrounded by the best few people I know and at the end of the day, that’s all that matters.

My finsta was something that really carried my journey throughout high school. I posted anything and everything on there with a few people I genuinely trusted or saw no harm in. I shared my most personal stories and I ranted about the most pointless things - it was literally my open diary. It captured every moment I’m still embarrassed about and every moment I was fond of. Once graduation happened, my finsta felt sacred to me. It felt unusual to taint my finsta with college memories that don’t involve the individuals already on there and it felt weird that I was ranting to people I don’t even talk to anymore. Posting on my story is one thing because it doesn’t share much more than random life updates, but I found that I can no longer share anything too personal to people with totally different lives from my own now.

Honestly, a quarter into college and months after graduation, why am I still writing about high school? Most people have let go and all hope is lost in terms of ever gaining back what has already diminished. I sit here at 7am on January 4, 2021 to write this because part of me still feels haunted by it. I’ve completely moved on to the closest thing I can have at the moment to a better life. I have friends I trust and love, a boyfriend I can lean on, a family who will do anything for me, and an opportunity in college to become a better version of myself, and for that I am eternally grateful. For some reason though, this doesn’t stop the random waves of anxiety caused by dreams that realistically have no relevance. I know I was in my darkest time around commitment day and graduation. I saw no worth in myself and no hope for better days, but am I really out of that period? Of course I love who’s around me right now, but do I really love who I am right now? The answer right now is honestly probably no. I know I could do more, I know I can make friends, I know I can do way better in all my classes, but I feel defeated. I miss the easier times - the morning Dunkin Donuts runs, ice skating adventures, saying hi in the hallway, and activities I was involved in after-school. I always dreaded endings of everything - middle school, programs, events, friendships - but I never thought my dreading of the end of high school would become what it is. I’ll never be satisfied with the relationships fractured and the memories that now feel so distant that it doesn’t even feel like me. I look at memories and don’t even recognize myself. I don’t even remember who I used to be and half of the time I am blocking the missing of that version of me. One day I’ll completely let go of that time, but for now, it is sometimes still a fresh scar that threatens to be reopened.

[jessblogs]

Why I Started This Blog

I think I always had a thing for writing - whether it is high school essays, finsta rants, or creative short stories. For a while I stopped writing, but I feel inspired to create a space where anybody, or nobody at all, can read my random posts and can somehow relate. It’s a benefit that I can be somewhat anonymous, but I look forward to documenting my life. Maybe it can somewhat act as a blog full of memories one day.